Tea
by LucianLoveNarnia
Summary: Natasha Romanoff has a very big secret. Natalia Romanov isn't just a name. She's a person living inside Natasha's head, and she's very dangerous. Clint Barton is sent to kill Natalia and stumbles upon Natasha. He brings Natasha Romanoff back from the edge of insanity and manages to keep her away from it. My version of their back story from the movie. One-shot.


**Hey, guys. Another Clintasha one-shot. I'm obsessed with this couple, I swear. Also, if you read my other fic, Change, please don't hesitate to leave a review.  
And if you're interested in my original stories, check out Aidyn Marie Smith on Fiction Press. My current story is called Lost Hope.  
Enjoy!**

Her eyes fluttered open. She felt something constricting her wrist, holding her hand up. She looked to see it was a metal cuff around her wrist, attached to a chain, attached to another cuff, attached to a metal bar. She yanked at the handcuffs, though it did no good. She tried to move her other arm and then was painfully reminded that her shoulder was dislocated.

She looked around as carefully as she could, wincing at the pain in her shoulder and the pain in her forehead, remembering that she'd been knocked out. She wondered where he was, the one that had done this to her.

"You're awake." His voice came from behind her. He circled around to her front, hand holding a loaded bow. She said nothing, just glared up at him. "Do you need another hit on the head for that glare to go away?"

"Why didn't you kill me?" she finally hissed in heavily accented English. "It's what you were sent to do, was it not?"

"It was," he answered. "But I decided otherwise."

"Why?"

"I don't think I'm obligated to tell you."

"I think I deserve to know why my life wasn't taken." Despite her protest, he said nothing on the subject.

"Your name is…Natalia Romanov, correct?"

"Da."

"Yes? Really? Or is it Natasha Romanoff?"

"Net. Natasha is somewhere…inside," Natalia answered.

"Inside? You mean inside your head?"

"Da, you could say that."

"It seems to me, Miss Romanov, that you have multiple personality disorder."

"Wouldn't you after going through that der'mo?"

"What crap?" the archer asked, pulling up a chair and sitting in it, in front of the woman. "What did you go through, Miss Romanov?"

"Why should I tell you?" she snapped.

"I could hit you even harder on the head, change Natalia into Natasha…if Natasha's any more cooperative."

"She won't be."

"You sure? I'm about ready to find out."

"You'll have to wait a few more hours," Natalia snickered.

"I have all the time in the world, Miss Romanov." A kick to the head and she was out again.

XOXOXOXOX

When the redhead reawakened, she seemed more disoriented than before. She also seemed more vulnerable, less on her guard.

"Miss Romanov?" the archer said softly, sitting back down in the chair across from her.

"What? Romanov? Natalia? Please, don't let her out again," the woman pleaded, green eyes betraying her fear at the mention of Natalia's name. Her voice wasn't that heavy Russian accent that Natalia had spoken with.

"So I assume you're Natasha."

"Yes."

"Miss Romanoff…please, can you tell me where you came from, and what happened to you?"

"I…don't remember much. Why do you want to know?" There was still venom in her voice, but her shoulder was dislocated, her head was pounding, and she was in a very compromising position at the moment, so she wasn't going to bother with being as outright defiant as Natalia.

"Natasha…I can only keep you alive if you give me the chance to help you. Miss Romanoff, what should just be two different names are two different people living inside your head. You have to tell me why."

She stared him down for what seemed the longest time. He was sent here to kill her. She shouldn't trust him…but he was claiming he could help her suppress Natalia. Not to mention, he was right about the split personalities warring for control over her body. She sighed and sagged closer to the wall on her undamaged, left side.

"I was raised in the Black Widow Ops program. I don't know what happened to my family. They never told me and I could never ask."

"Why not?"

"They brainwashed us and stuck us in combat training. It was called the Red Room facility."

"And what about the…Natalia/Natasha problem?"

"My real name is Natalia Romanov, and that's what they called the assassin they trained. I can only imagine the side you're seeing now the side of me that actually has a conscience. So I called myself Natasha Romanoff and kept the two separate."

"Miss Romanoff, have you ever found yourself arguing with Natalia?"

"Many times."

"You realize how much of a problem that is, right? Arguing with another side of yourself? If you were speaking to a therapist, they wouldn't be so blunt, but I'm not a therapist so I will tell you straight out that you're insane."

"I already know that," she shot back.

"How long have you kept control over yourself, Natasha?"

"When I was still in the Red Room, I could never keep control for over five minutes. Natalia was the one they wanted, and Natalia was the one they got."

"And when you got out? When they sent you on missions such as this one?"

"When I'm not in the facility, I can overrule Natalia for as long as 48 hours."

"Why don't you?"

"Because Natalia kills without conviction, and she does it quickly. And the quicker she finishes the mission, the quicker she's headed back to the facility."

"You're not going back to the facility, Miss Romanoff. I'm taking you to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"The people that wanted me dead? Are you sure I'm the only insane one here?"

"Miss Romanoff, you're a liability to us when you're working for people as dangerous as the ones who brainwashed and trained you. On our side, you'd be doing something good."

"And…what if Natalia gets out?"

"I'll help you. We can keep the whole Natalia problem just between us, and whenever you feel like she's going to come out, I can talk to you. Just like I have been."

"What do I call you?"

"Clint. Agent Clint Barton."

"Clint. Nice to meet you." He chuckled and moved to rest his hand carefully on her dislocated arm, giving her a warning look before popping it back into place. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from yelling out in pain. She wasn't surprised when she tasted blood.

"Sorry," he whispered. He turned around and picked up the radio on the other side of the room. For the first time, Natasha managed to get a look around. They were in an old, run-down, abandoned building. The room they were in was made of concrete with only one window, high-up on the wall. It was barred, like a prison window. She carefully lifted her right arm—her shoulder gave a dull ache in protest—and rested her hand on her pounding head. She looked up at Clint, who was speaking urgently and quietly into the radio. After a minute he dropped it and stomped on it so that it broke. No doubt there was a tracking device in it that would allow S.H.I.E.L.D. to find him and come get him.

"Come on," he said, producing the key to the handcuffs and unlocking the harsh metal cuff around her wrist. "I trust you not to run away." He watched her carefully for any signs of betrayal. There were none.

"I'm still Natasha for now," she said when she caught his cautious stare. "I don't know how long it will last, though."

"I could always knock you out again." Just thinking about being hit again made her head hurt. Well, either that thought or the fact that it was pounding as if she had a migraine already.

"Could you do it by some other means than hitting me?"

"I don't think I _could_ hit you again with your head in that shape. It'd split like a watermelon." It must have looked as bad as it felt if he was saying that. "Come on. The helicopter's here."

XOXOXOXOX

"Your orders were to kill her, Barton," Director Nick Fury said. His voice was calm, his tone even, and yet Natasha could detect the underlying anger. She sat nearby, sunken into her chair, an icepack pressed against her forehead to take down the swelling.

"I understand what my orders were, sir. She surrendered before I had the chance to carry out said orders. I figured she would be better as an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. If not, her talents would just have gone to waste."

"And you thought that was just for you to decide?"

"With all due respect, sir, you were not there to decide so I had to." The two had a stare-down for what seemed like hours, though it was more like ten minutes.

"Fine. But you're responsible for her, Barton. And if she goes so out of line as to harm another agent, I will personally put a bullet in her skull. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Natasha's first impression of Fury: he was terrifying.

"Come on," Clint whispered, helping Natasha up and out of the room. He saw the underlying fear in her eyes and shook his head. "He can get pretty angry, but I can honestly say he's the most decent man I've ever worked for."

"I hate to imagine the men you've worked for in the past if Fury's a _decent man_." Clint chuckled.

"How's the head?"

"Still pounding."

"Well, I'll get you a couple ibuprofen for the pain. How's the swelling?"

"I don't know," she answered, taking away the icepack.

"It's definitely gone down quite a bit. How's the icepack?"

"Getting a little warm."

"How many is this now?" he asked, pausing to throw the one-use pack in the nearest garbage can, pulling out another and handing it to her.

"Four."

"Geez. Didn't realize I hit you that hard."

"Yeah…well."

"Okay, they have temporary living situations here, or you can come live in my apartment until I deem you stable enough to get one of your own."

"I think living with you would be safest. You're the only one that knows about my predicament."

"Agreed."

XOXOXOXOX

Clint lived in the flat at the top of one of the 50-floor buildings in New York City. To say the place was big was putting it mildly. There were four bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms and walk-in closets. The living space was a couch and a chaise lounge facing the large flat-screen TV. The chaise lounge was set against one of the window-walls, overlooking the city miles below. The kitchen was just off the living space, with two long counters with a stove on one side near the refrigerator, a dishwasher near the sink on the other side. Cabinets were above the counters, holding customary dishes and food and whatnot. To one side there was a pantry. And in the middle of the kitchen there was an island counter with two stools set up to sit and eat there. There was no dining space, and Clint explained that he'd always sit and eat on the chaise lounge, looking out over the city or watching TV. The door was the elevator, leading to one side of the living area.

"Wow," she'd muttered when they first stepped inside.

"I, uh…have the whole floor to myself," he said, shrugging. "Being a S.H.I.E.L.D. assassin pays big money. You can have any one of the three available rooms. Mine is at the very end of the hall. It's the one with the window-walls."

"So I heard they call you Hawkeye," Natasha said conversationally. "I'm guessing the archery has something to do with it?"

"Not in particular. I became an archer because of my keen eyesight. Before I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I was a sniper in the Marines."

"That's cool," she said, walking over to the chaise lounge, standing behind it and looking out over the city. "I was trained to be a sniper."

"_Natalia_ was trained to be a sniper," he reminded her.

"Just because Natalia was trained for it doesn't mean I don't know how to do it, too."

"Fine, I'll give you that one." He paused. "Do you want me to show you the bedrooms? They each have their own bathrooms attached, so you don't have to worry about not knowing where a bathroom is."

"Sure," she replied, following him down the hallway.

XOXOXOXOX

"I think there's only one thing you're missing in this place," she said once she was curled up on the couch, eyes trained on the TV.

"What's that?" he asked, in the adjacent kitchen, making tea.

"A gym."

"Mm, I'm pretty sure there's one downstairs."

"Oh, hey…Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you add milk to my tea?"

"Sure. You want sugar or honey?"

"Umm…sugar." They were silent for a few minutes while he made the tea. He came back into the living room and handed her the cup. She took a sip, testing to see if it was sweet enough. He stood by with his own cup, as if waiting to see her reaction.

"So?"

"It's perfect," she said, giving him a small, fleeting smile. "Thanks."

XOXOXOXOX

"On your left!"

"Nat, get down!"

Their first mission was a success. As his responsibility, Natasha had been assigned as Barton's partner so that he could keep an eye on her. For the first few years, it was gaining Fury's trust. Afterwards, it was just routine.

The first few missions, Clint would look over his shoulder and see Natalia had emerged. During a battle, there was nothing he could do about it. Afterwards, though, Natasha always came back. When he pressed it, she finally explained that she'd managed to claw her way through the barriers Natalia had set up and regain control.

"That's good," he'd said. "It means you have more control over Natalia than she does over you." She had nodded in agreement.

In missions after that, she'd kept Natalia from surfacing at all. In fact, Natalia hadn't made an appearance in years. Natasha stopped finding herself up in the wee hours of the morning fighting back her other side while Clint sat on the edge of the bed, a hand rubbing her back and helping her keep control over herself.

She never did get her own apartment. She would be too lonely without Clint, and he without her. He took up her suggestion and changed the two vacant bedrooms into a training area. A lot of the time they would train separately, but some days Natasha suggested sparring. She would win every time, of course, seeing as she was better at hand-to-hand combat than he was. After sparring, they would he would take a shower and then she would while he made tea.

He still made her tea just the way she liked it.

**Hope you guys liked it. I know the whole split personality thing isn't true to the comics, but hey, this is fanfiction. Not to mention, I thought it gave an interesting twist to her back story. And if you knew Natasha's original back story, you'd know why I went this route. Review for me! :)**


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